A Boy and His Machine Gun
by Eralda
Summary: the aftermath, this is a Sasuke x Orochimaru.


**A Boy and His Machine Gun**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Naruto_. It and all respective characters belong to kishimoto .**

**Additional Note:** Sort of a follow up to Hanging by a Moment. A song inspired this story, and a very big thank you to Deep Blue Dragon for beta reading it, thank you hun.

**Summary:** the aftermath of Sasuke and Orochimaru.

the **Bold** stuff are reffered to Sasuke

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He enjoyed this sort of thing. When he had complete control. There was nothing that wasn't his idea, or under his control. These moments were for him. No longer did he live to please another. Pleasure was his, no matter how sick and twisted the means this pleasure came from. He made **him** bite the rodent alive. Rip it's jugular from it's thick coarse hide. The blood flowed freely down her stubborn chin. This was arcadia. This was bliss.

He had spent days planning this one. Break the indestructible paramour, made what once yearned for the golden boy, and yearn for him. Maybe not necessarily his body but his power.

_Itachi_, spiting out the name, was the only way he could pronounce the vile thing. He knew **he** still wanted the Uchiha warrior, just like every other damn fool that laid eyes on his fellow kin. But he had made sure that when **he** jumped for power, he was going to get a work out.

Slowly he encircled **his** face with his leather-clad hands. Each nail he made sure left nail marks, the white shadows turned angry red score marring the taffy cream of **his **skin. It was an inviting sight.

In school he had always fancied himself an artist. While his commander was an athlete, he created. Always a fan of Pollok and Rothko, chaos was alluring, sexy even. He was in control of that power, he decided how little or how much bedlam would occur. His canvas was the braided vixen, perfect complexion just ready to be deformed.

Tools of the trade were never far from his side. The art knife was becoming dull from use, he would have to remember to sharpen it after he finished with him, no matter the cutting was done. With fingers of a surgeon, he deftly replaced the knife with a gouge, a gift from his parents. Their memory never left him either. Despising them and loving them so badly all at once, left his heart feeling as if it would burst. Putting those thoughts aside, returning to his task at hand.

**He** moaned, rather loudly than he would have expected. _Power and Chaos_ at least that what he thinks he heard, all seemed to be rather slurred, he assumed it was from the rat - or **his** blood. If **he** was in a talking mood then maybe **he** should oblige him, he was after all a leader - not a monster.

_A job well done indeed._ He sat down across from his wiping his hands on **his **jacket.

_He left; you know_ He checked to see if his company was listening._ I don't know where, but you showed up, and 'poof' he bolted. I thought he and I had come to an agreement. I suppose he's off mooning over himself as usual. Oh you know 'him' Itachi, lover as you so ardently call him._

He noted that **he** had raised **his** head, a curious look spread across **his** features, not understanding what he was going on about. **He** had come here to die; **he** assumed all **he** did was stand there and rambles on. After everything he had just done, after everything he had made **him** do - he rambled. Acting as if they were out for a bloody Sunday stroll, merrily passing the time from daytime to nighttimes, pillow talk with out the pillow. It made** him** already fuzzy thoughts swirl.

_Oh I don't imagine you feel very sorry for **him**. Now you have little ol' me to yourself. All that power, for you to manipulate with your male whiles. Another notch, on your proverbial belt. Survival, that's all that matters right?_

**He** was having trouble following his line of thought, hell **he** was having trouble focusing on him.

_You were with Itachi, tried to seal the deal right? Was it all you imagined? Better? Come on tell your good friend. We could be bosom buddies. Friends till the end. No? Oh well._

His incoherent ramblings were driving **him **mad. He was unbalanced, that** he** was sure of. Who '**he**' was that he spoke of was still an enigma **he** needed to solve.

_I suppose that you want me as your bed mate as well. I offer something more appealing in times like these than the popularity my brother could offer you. That is why you're here?_

**He** didn't know whether or not **he** should answer. What was **he** to say "Yes I came to fuck, as long as you make me your queen"? What did **he** expect from coming here? Acceptance? A role in life? **He** didn't think this one through, and was at the moment in no position to do so. All **he** could do was agree with this madman and hope that all would end well enough that **he** was alive.

_That's right, agree with me._

**He** passes out, it didn't matter. He had finished anyway, and left **him** in the cage.

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I hope you enjoy this one shot if you have any story or paring request please tell me. 


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